The Rising Sun Cafe and Bookstore
by Celebrimbor1999
Summary: Arthur didn't know why he kept coming back. It was such a quaint little place, honestly not worth his time… (The blue-eyed idiot who manned the counter meant nothing) Merthur is engame


Quaint was probably the nicest way people referred to the Rising Sun Café and Bookstore. Overcrowded was another – not because of the people, but the books. Books in the floor-to-ceiling shelves, books under the counter and windows, books on the chairs, books in piles on the floor… To put it plainly, it was a fucking mess and fire hazard, not to mention a danger to customers.

Arthur didn't know why he kept going back. It wasn't that he liked to read – he had a hard-enough time getting his required readings done for college, not that they were real page turners in the first place. It certainly wasn't for the food – the owner, a stern old man named Gaius tended to mix up his herbal remedies and the food for the café. More than once Arthur had bitten into some unidentifiable mixture of herbs and animal parts when he expected a ham and cheese filled croissant. It definitely wasn't for the ambiance – he has had to dodge at least three falling books, a falling bookshelf and the collapse of the railing that ran the length of the upper level, as well as the occasional flying tea cup, brass kettle or book that the owner liked to fling at his employee.

If someone really pressed, Arthur might say that it was because of the idiot barista.

Said idiot was of some relation to Gaius, with no resemblance between them at all. He would often be found with a book in one hand and half-drunk cup of tea in the other. The language on the book would differ from visit to visit – Arthur had seen him reading Latin on one occasion, which he only recognised due to a half-remembered Latin class a few years back. He was the clumsiest waiter in existence, tripping on books and chair legs and air. Food often went flying in this café, though he was skilled enough to catch it (sometimes). And he was the rudest, most irreverant person in customer service that Arthur had ever met.

_"Name for the order?" The pale barista behind the counter had _really _blue eyes._

_"Pendragon. Arthur Pendragon." He was ready for the usual reaction – wide-eyed stares, over-exuberant displays of awe, the general scraping that came from being the son of London's most successful businessman. _

_"Pendragon… the wait's going to be about five minutes. Gaius is using the kettle." No reaction. _

_"I need it faster – I'm running late." He had slept through his alarm this morning; Morgana had taken forever in the shower… and used up the last of the milk. _

_"Well you're just gong to have to be late." Translation: I don't give a shit. _

_Arthur was baffled. "Don't you know who I am?"_

_"A prat?" _

_He couldn't form words._

_"Oh, my mistake, a monumental prat. The wait's still going to be about five minutes. Three if you don't mind mixing your tea in with whatever Gaius is making now." This man had absolutely no sense of self-preservation._

_"Did you just call me a prat?!"_

_"Oh, the prat caught up. Would you rather clotpole?"_

_"What?! No! I would rather you act like a proper member of the customer service industry! Is this how you treat all your customers?"_

_"No, just the prattish ones."_

_More silence, as Arthur took a moment to digest that comment. The man turned back to his book. _

_"Merlin, the kettle's free!" A voice called from above. Both men looked up to see Gaius dropped a kettle over the railing. Casually, like it was something he did every day, the blue-eyed man (Merlin?) caught the heavy brass object, wiped it out, filled it, and poured the tea. _

_"Earl Grey with milk and honey for the clotpole – I mean, Mr Pendragon."_

_Arthur snatched the environmentally friendly to-go cup out of his hand and stormed out the door. No matter how much of a shortcut this road was, he was never coming back here. _

But he did. Many times. He found himself getting up earlier, so to have time to stay and poke around the café for a minute before class. And to talk to Merlin.

Not that he _wanted _to talk to Merlin. Merlin was just kind of… there. There with a smart-arse comment on his lips, with a perfect cup of Earl Grey and a spare five minutes to just let Arthur talk. It was refreshing, to talk to someone who didn't care who his father was, or how much money he had, or what he looked like. All Merlin saw was Arthur. And occasionally he had something almost-wise to say.

_"Father is trying to set me up with the daughter of one of his business associates… Again." Arthur groaned, sprawled out at the table closest to the counter. "Elena's nice, she's just not…"_

_"Right? Pretty? Dumb enough to converse on your level?" Merlin sat on the other side of the table, cup of tea in hand. _

_Arthur scowled. "She is pretty, but she's not what I want in a partner. And Father is trying to force the relationship. I have to attend the dinner tomorrow – he wants to impress her family."_

_"Break your leg."_

_He blinked. "What?"_

_"Break your leg, that will get you out of the dinner."_

_"I'm not going to break my leg to get out of going to dinner! Don't be an idiot Merlin!" _

_"Then talk to her."_

_Rolling his eyes, Arthur drawled, "I'm trying to _get out _of the dinner _Mer_lin, not give it reason to continue."_

_Merlin rolled his eyes back. "While you're at the dinner, talk to her. Explain that you're not looking for a relationship, that you mean no disrespect to her, but she deserves a partner who will love and care for her, and that you don't think you're the right person for that." He stood from the table as a customer approached the counter. "Enjoy the dinner, prat."_

(Elena was quite agreeable when Arthur pulled her to the side before the meal. "I'm not the one for you Arthur, and that's okay," She said, "I wasn't entirely enthused about this dinner either."

Father wasn't happy, but Arthur didn't care. Arthur was happy.

Even though Merlin was insufferable about it when he made the mistake of telling him about the nights success.)

So Arthur became fond of the quaint little café. It was nice, despite the unending books, dreadful amounts of dust, minor explosions and foul smells that occasionally drifted down from upstairs. Gaius (who was apparently an old friend of his fathers) gave good advice, if a little cryptic, on how to deal with both his father and the business world and could make a nice stew if you didn't question what was in it. And Merlin was… Merlin.

He was clumsy, and a little dim in some ways, but wickedly smart in others. He had no athletic inclinations whatsoever but could never be caught if he really let loose and ran. He made the perfect cup of Earl Grey tea. He was wise and helpful and infuriating and proud and a little secretive and protective and reckless and…

And Arthur was completely struck-by-lightning, father-would-disown-him-if-he-knew, head over heels for him.

(Arthur was _fucked)_

**So this is my Merlin CoffeeShop!AU for Writers Month 2019. First time writing in this fandom, but I'm pleased with how it's gone. I'm considering writing a continuation of it later… But nothing's certain. Thanks for reading! Check me out on Tumblr Celebrimbor97**

**Kat**


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